Dreams Never Come True
by Penny Wishes
Summary: What happens when the girl you love, love's someone else, what happens when you've had enough and you tell her how you feel, can you force dreams to come true? R/H/H triangle Ron's POV


Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the plot, but I will trade the plot for Ron Wealsey so Mrs. Rowling, you may want to consider that lol.  
  
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Dreams Never Come True   
  
  
  
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When you're young, sometimes you dream the impossible. You dream something so impossible, but you dream it so bloody hard, that you actually start believing, that somehow, somehow, it will come true.   
  
Somehow it has to come true, right? Because you want it SO bad, and you're a pretty good bloke, so you deserve it, don't you?   
  
When you get older, you realize that all this dreaming, wishing stuff is a load of bollocks because if it's impossible, then hell, it's impossible.   
  
The sidekick will never be the hero. The smart will never stoop as low as the dumb. The rich will always mock the poor. And that's just what I am. The Sidekick, The dumb, The poor.   
  
And that was all I wanted. That's all I still want. But by now it's obvious I'll never get any of it. Schools over. I'm eighteen now. But even as a man I can't conquer the things that battled me as a boy.   
  
I'd forget all of them for the smart. That's the important one. Her. I'd forget it all for her. My favorite dream. My favorite wish. The one thing I dreamed so hard I thought it would come true....  
  
She was always so perfect. Still is. Wild peanut buttered crown swinging down the sides of soft flawless flesh. Velvety eyes shadowed beneath a row of long black lashes. And when you looked into those eyes, You could tell she knew.   
  
She knew things no one else did, and things everyone did, but she knew them to a depth of perfection.   
  
Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend it's back a couple years, when I could still fancy her. When it was still aloud.   
  
I picture those eyes looking into mine, telling me secrets that I'd never let spill. Whispering that I was good enough.   
  
I'm not though. I try to be, to not let people know how pathetic I am, but it's useless. Everything I own is rubbish, everything I am is rubbish. I'm an eighteen year-old "survivor" who whishes half the time he hadn't, who puts on a smile for his two best friends and then goes back to his pathetic little flats and tries not to cry.   
  
It's my fault too, which is the worst part. If I hadn't been so hung up on her I wouldn't have said yes to her request. I can still remember it so clearly.   
  
We were sitting together in the common room, she was leaning against me staring into the fire. I was summoning my Gryffindor courage to tell her how I felt. Harry was in bed.   
  
"Ron-"   
  
"Hermione-" We both started. "Go head," I offered. She grinned turning to face me. Her face shadowy from the firelight. An orange glow brushing lightly over her features.   
  
"Umm, I wanted to ask you a favor," she started slowly, in a meek unsure way that was uncharacteristic. I nodded and her soft little hands slipped into mine. A tingling feeling raced through my body as I anticipated what I thought would be the best moment of my life the moment of truth. "There's this... Person, I... Well... I suppose I fancy him, but it's sort of a bad situation because," She looked away at the fire, her face illuminating. I realized I wasn't breathing. "Because we're friends," She finished looking back at my carefully.   
  
I squeezed her hands rubbing them gently in mine, I felt like my chest was exploding. A friend.   
  
"I was wondering if you could find out if he likes me too... Maybe even help us-"   
  
"I will," I said grinning. She grinned to taking one hand out of mine to run down my cheek. She leaned forward pressing a soft kiss to my other cheek. I reached my empty hand up catching her head in my hand, letting myself get hypnotized in her eyes.   
  
She bit her lip with her two front teeth, that were amazingly oversized until forth year. It was strangely erotic. And I felt myself leaning forward to rescue her soft lower lip from her perfectly straight white teeth.   
  
And then she said it.   
  
"It's Harry."   
  
It's Harry.   
  
It's Harry.   
  
It's Harry.   
  
It echoed in my head. It's Harry. It's not you Ron, your not good enough. It's Harry. My hand dropped from the back of her head.   
  
What had just happened? She had kissed me, I was her friend, it had to be me! But it wasn't. It was Harry. The kiss had been a friendly one, a thanks for saying I'd help. And now I had to.   
  
"You'll still help, won't you, even though it's Harry. I mean, you don't think that will be too weird, do you?" She was nervous, scared.   
  
"No," I croaked. I wasn't sure whether the no meant that no I wouldn't help, or no, it wouldn't be too weird. It just came out a strange high croak. She smiled her eyes glistening with tears she'd never let fall, and she crushed herself against me.   
  
In my dreams I would have let my hands wander over her, rubbing gently and loving her. In my dreams I would have sucked in the deep smell of her hair and then turned my head to kiss her cheek. In dreams I would have lain backwards on the couch settling her on top of me, a soft and warm weight brimming with the same affection that I gave her.   
  
But in real life I was stiff a cold stone.   
  
It wasn't hard to get Harry to realize Hermione's affections. I didn't try hard, in fact it was less then my regular half-assed attempt, but he still found out, an like any other male he accepted her feelings. And returned them. I wanted to scream, I returned them MORE! I thought he knew too, I really thought he did.   
  
I suppose that if I had actually TOLD him how I felt, or when he asked if I liked her, if I had said "yes" maybe that would have helped, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I'm not so good with words, and I just couldn't do it to Hermione. She loves Harry, and I love her, so I should want what will make her happy... Right?   
  
I try to make myself forget, I've gone out with countless girls, but it doesn't work, in reality I'm just making it worse, trying transform each girl into the only one I'll ever love. It's twisted, and I suppose I am to, because I can't stop. I want to, I swear I do, I want to feel only platonic things for her, or even hate her, but I can't.   
  
I love her. Lust for her. Need her. I suppose that's why I did, what I did tonight. The night they came over to tell me the news. That they're engaged.   
  
She stayed longer then he did. He has work the next morning, a highly respected auror, I was given the offer to be an auror too, but succeeding just isn't my thing, and I quit. Because there's no point. I don't care anymore.   
  
I don't care about anything but her, which I suppose is why I got reckless. Harry left, kissing her, kissing her hard, right there in front of me, even though they know it makes me a bit uncomfortable, at least I've voiced that.   
  
"Isn't it just...?" She trailed off not able to find a word great enough to express her pleasure. And I knew, I knew I had to tell her.   
  
"It's not for me," I said seriously. She was sitting on my couch all laid out, she cocked her head inquisitively, with a look on her face that probably meant she thought I was joking.   
  
"What...?" she asked slowly, still with that strange smile on her face. She bent her knees, leaving me a spot to sit down.   
  
"Because, I'm in love with you," I said seriously, blankly, as if I were talking about the weather.   
  
"Your joking right...?" She asked slowly her smile dropping a bit. I got up on my knees and leaned forward, capturing her head in my hand, like I had the night she had asked a favor. "Ro-on," Her voice cracked nervously. Her eyes were wide, unsure, and unbelieving.   
  
Her mouth was open slightly and I took advantage of it. Pressing my lips against hers, first softly and then angrily, letting the tears of pain and anger wash down my cheeks. She was motionless for a second and then she responded, allowing me to explore her mouth, my hand entwined in her hair, and the other roamed down the sides of her body. This was good.   
  
This was right.   
  
I was trailing down her neck before I remembered what I was doing.   
  
"Ron," She panted her own tears glistening along her bottom lashes. "You have to stop, we can't do this, I-I'm marrying Harry."   
  
I growled breaking away to meet her eyes.   
  
"I have loved you for seven bloody years," I snarled and she looked scared, and I hated myself for scaring her.   
  
"Why, why didn't you... Say anything?" She asked a cry breaking through her throat.   
  
"Because I'm not good enough," The words came out harsh and angry, in a voice I'd never used with her before. One I saved for Malfoy, and You-Know-Who, and myself.   
  
One lone tear slid off her eyelashes and traced her cheekbone, down to her jaw. I caught it with my lips kissing her jaw softly. An apology kiss that I'd wanted to give her since the first time I'd called her "A nightmare" Her body fell against mine soft and shaking.   
  
"How can you say that?" She sobbed into my chest. "Is that what I made you think?" I looked down into her hair sucking in the scent greedily, and then I realized what I was doing.   
  
I was hurting her. Forcing her beautiful encouraging eyes, full of hope, to cry, tears of pain, remorse. Forcing her lovely body, created for the mere purpose of giving happiness, shake with sobs. And I wanted it to end.   
  
I was destroying her, and I had totally forgotten about Harry, my best friend, my brother.   
  
I pulled my wand out of my pocket with my right hand as my left gently massaged her back.   
  
"obliviate," I hissed pointing the want at the crying girl in my arms. She sat back up looking at me strangely.   
  
"Sorry, I just kind of spaced out for a second there..." She muttered shaking her head.   
  
I slipped my wand back into my pocket.   
  
"I was just congratulating you, on Harry proposing to you," I said really forcing a smile. She smiled back and hugged me again.   
  
"It's perfect isn't it, Harry and I together, you the best man and Ginny the maid of honor,"   
  
"Yeah," I said into her hair. "Perfect," Perfectly morbid, the two most important, other then the bride and groom, lusting for the bride and groom. Abso-fucking-lutely.   
  
She's gone now, and I'm alone in my room wishing and hoping and dreaming the impossible. And maybe if I dream hard enough, the dream will come true... Right?   
  
Or maybe I'll just sit here like I am now for the rest of my life, trying and knowing it's a load of fucking bollocks.   
  
Dreams never come true for the sidekick. 


End file.
